Looking Beneath the Surface

Recently, I was introduced to “Finding Calcutta” a Catholic Community dedicated to making the topics of faith more accessible to daily life. You can find the community here. The energetic young lady leading the group asked if I would write about the influence my spiritual life has had on my photography. Writing this piece allowed me to look closer at my spiritual journey. I hope sharing a bit of my story and some of the places I have found God will help others see God’s work in their life. 

It has been said that the Christian life is a life of unity rooted in Christ. The unity of my life story might be found partially in the consistency of an ever-changing environment. When I was a child, my family moved every four years. Each move created an opportunity for growth and to some degree re-invention. As an adult, the constancy in this change continued and grew to include new environments, new roles, new family members and new friends. In the midst of this I sometimes found myself reshaping my identity to reflect my environment and to meet the real or imaged expectations of others. 

My adventure into photography began after a move to the desert. Every time I moved, I would consider the subtle differences and the sense of place each new location presented.   When I moved to west Texas, I was startled by the striking beauty of this new environment. A lot of people in the area complained about the ugliness. What I saw was not ugly. I wanted to capture the startling colors, the exuberant skies, and the vastness of this new landscape.  My journey began with a desire to highlight these aspects of my surroundings, but as I looked deeper I began to reawaken my senses and redirect my gaze towards God’s magnificent work.

I started my hobby as a mom with a young child in a new community. My husband traveled a lot, so I spent a lot of time in solitude. Photography allowed me to show little pieces of the word from my perspective. Chasing light, and exploring new landscapes gave my son and I many opportunities to enjoy nature. I loved watching his exploration of the landscape, his unbridled freedom, and his ability to naturally look closer at various bugs and creatures. I saw the word anew through his eyes. 

Change continues to be a large part of my life, but as I grow closer to Christ I continue to find an interior steadiness and rhythm in the midst of this circumstantial flux. I am my best self when take time to appreciate the beauty He has placed in my life. When I step outside with my camera, I slow down. I look closer at the world around me. I see beauty.

As I pause to view the terrain from my own particular space, I feel the parts of myself that are connected to the material world. The parts that are changing; in a state of growth and decay. I also find an interior stillness, steadying myself spiritually in Christ, who is unchanging and constant.  In opposition to the mutable unrest of the world, I find peace in my faith. I find peace in my prayer life. I find peace in the sanctifying grace of the sacraments. 

Since I began my journey into photography, life has taken me to different parts of the country. I have witnessed beauty through many mediums. I am learning to be flexible to God’s plan and look for the beauty in each surprise and turn in circumstance. I have taken on new roles in this season of life. I am a graduate student, teacher, mother, wife and friend. I know that I give my best self to these roles when I slow down, soak in the beauty and ask God to shape me. I periodically update my website with photography, poetry and the occasional blog entry. These are the things that fill my soul. These are the things that speak to me. 

When I think about what it means to find Calcutta, I think about finding steady beauty in hidden places. I think about the authentic self I see when I center myself in Christ and open myself up to his Grace. 

Out of the Storm

When I lived in west Texas I loved to take impromptu trips to explore the sand dunes one and half hours south of town. The state park situated in rural west Texas provided spectacular views and a wide open space perfect for exploration. Sand dunes are particularly suited to exploration parties containing small children. When we arrived I could let my four year old run free.

The weather in west Texas is often unpredictable. Storms sometimes quickly blow through without warning. During one of my spontaneous sand dune trips the park greeted us with a spectacular storm. We had to stay in the car and wait for this storm to pass. This waiting was particularly difficult for my then four year old. He had spent the last hour and half watching out the window with a growing anticipation for the familiar adventure space. When we arrived and we had to stay in the car he was beyond distraught. It did not matter how much I assured him the storm would pass and we would soon play, in that moment he could see nothing but the storm, and he felt trapped in that car.

Eventually the lightning stopped, the clouds cleared and he was free to roam. The air was fresh, the sand was soft, and the sky was astonishing. The storm left the landscape revitalized and refreshed. Although we had to wait a bit longer to explore, the enhanced view made the delay seem insignificant in retrospect.

During Mass today the priest spoke about Christ’s baptism and our own baptism. Through Christ’s baptism our own baptism cleanses us of sin. My photograph from this day, “Break in the Storm”, came to my mind while he was speaking. If you look closely there is a small figure on the far dune. I did not notice this figure until I was editing my photos. The small figure is walking out of the storm towards the light. I wish I could say I planned to capture that. I did not. I was too busy looking at the sky. I love this image because of that small mysterious figure.

Father closed by reminding us, after our baptism we must go forth and continuously fight against sin. This is a fight fueled by hope and help through the sacraments. Again, I thought of that small figure emerging from the storm and walking boldly into the light. I also thought about my own impatience. I thought about how hard it is to recognize the beauty of a storm in the midst of it. A friend recently sent me this prayer for patient trust. It is a wonderful reminder to move forward in trust and hope, remembering we are adopted as daughters and sons of a benevolent and loving Father through baptism.

“Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything
to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to some-
thing unknown, something new.
And yet it is the law of progress
that it is made by passing through
some stages of instability-
and that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you;
your ideas mature gradually-let them grow,
let them shape themselves, without undue haste.
Do’t try to force them on,
as though you could be today what time
(that is to say, grace and circumstances
acting on your own good will)
will make of you tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.”

— Patient Trust by Teilhard de Chardin, SJ

Winter's Lessons

Winter is a great time for interior growth. Whether it is the patient quiet of advent or the joyful peace of the Christmas season, the rhythm of the liturgies coax me into a patient season of reflection and growth. Nature exhibits her beauty in new dimensions during this season. I had set aside my little hobby for a time, but the recent snow and the quiet of the season drew me outside. Photography takes a bit more resilience and a great deal more effort in this climate. As I ventured out to capture fresh snow with the lens I had to take extra precautions to avoid frostbite and endure a rather intense wind-chill. The experience remained sublime. These challenges present new lessons and new opportunities. For each of these I am grateful. Poetry often fills my mind while I shoot. If you explore this site you will find poems paired with some of the photos. This is my strange little hobby. Today my mind is filled with the beautiful lessons of winter; lessons of love and pain.

Winter’s Lessons

“In School
I used to go to a bright school
Where Youth and Frolic taught in turn;
But idle scholar that I was;
I liked to play, I would not learn;
So the Great Teacher did ordain
That I should try the School of Pain

One of the infant class I am
With little, easy lessons, set
In a great book; the higher class
Have harder ones than I, and yet
I find mine hard, and can’t restrain
My tears while studying thus with Pain.

There are two Teachers in the school,
One has a gentle voice and low,
And smiles upon her scholars, as
She softly passes to and fro.
Her name is Love; ‘tis very plain
She shuns the sharper teacher, Pain.

Or so I sometimes think; and then,
At other times, they meet and kiss,
And look so strangely like, that I
Am puzzled to tell how it is,
Or whence the change which makes it vain
To guess if it be - Love or Pain.

They tell me if I study well,
And learn my lessons, I shall be
Moved upward to that higher class
Where dear Love teaches constantly;
And I work hard, in hopes to gain
Reward, and get away from Pain.

Yet Pain is sometimes kind, and helps
Me on when I am very dull;
I thank him often in my heart;
But Love is far more beautiful;
Under her tender, gentle reign
I must learn faster than of Pain.

So I will do my very best,
Nor chide the clock, nor call it slow;
That when the Teacher calls me up
To see if I am fit to go,
I may to Love’s high class attain,
And bid a sweet good-by to Pain.”

— Excert from "What Katy Did" By Susan Coolidge